


Exeunt, Pursued by Bear

by Maira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Bartenders, Curse Breaker Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Friendship, Fun, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Humor, Muggle London, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Mutual Pining, Occlumency (Harry Potter), POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Romance, Snark, Spiked drink, St Mungo's Hospital, Surprise Kissing, Teddy Bears, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maira/pseuds/Maira
Summary: “If I see one more bloody pink bear, I’ll bloody well decapitate it.”Wherein Draco Malfoy visits multiple bars, encounters fruity cocktails, and falls into Hermione Granger's lap. On Valentine's Day. Because, of course.Written for the Strictly Dramione Valentines Fest 2021.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38
Collections: Strictly Dramione - Valentine’s Day Fest 2021, The Dramione Collection





	Exeunt, Pursued by Bear

**Author's Note:**

> _This fic does contain mention of a drugged (spiked) drink, and the character's reaction to that drugging. It's not explicit, and the character does not get hurt in any way, however if this is a triggering situation for you please do not continue_
> 
> First time writing for a fest, and it's a chonky boi! I had so much fun with this piece, and I'm quite excited (and possibly nervous) to share it with everyone. I chose the prompt 'If I see one more pink bear today, I'll bloody well decapitate it.", and just went with it.
> 
> Massive, huge, heaping kudos go to Charli Petidei for her most excellent beta work. Seriously, could not have done it without you. You made this piece so much better, and I can't wait to work with you again.
> 
> Enjoy, and have a great Valentine's Day!

~oOo~

“If I see one more bloody pink bear, I’ll bloody well decapitate it.”

Draco entered the bar with a growl, fist thudding on the door to push it open. Thankfully, it appeared that his best friend had been correct. They’d been to at least five bars in the last hour, and this was the first that hadn’t vomited Valentine’s Day all over them. There was still the requisite plethora of pink and red balloons and some garish paper hearts, but even that was quite understated compared to everywhere else.

“See? No bears, pink or otherwise.” Theo said, clapping him on the back. “ _Ursus rosea_ lives to fight another day.”

Draco threw a glare over his shoulder as they made their way up to the bar. “I’m here on sufferance, Theo. I had plans tonight, and none of them included being dragged out to a bar, let alone six of them.” Flinging himself somewhat inelegantly into his seat, Draco leaned his crossed arms on the bar and sniffed disdainfully.

He was not having the best night.

Achieving his Potions Mastery after completing his final year at Hogwarts had been one of the most challenging things he’d ever done. There had been more exams and experiments than he’d ever expected, and his brutal apprenticeship with a top Master Potioneer had made Snape’s tutelage from sixth year look positively bucolic.

But Draco had made it through, and five years of hard work had paid off. Not only could he now use the title Potions Master, he’d also thrown off the shackles of his Malfoy legacy – or was at least well on his way to it. Making amends with many of his ex-classmates had been just as painful as he’d thought it would be, but it had been worth the many uncomfortable conversations.

Draco couldn’t say that life was perfect – Potter was still a frequent pain in the arse – but it was amazing how much you could enjoy life when you didn’t have a crazed megalomaniac living in your home.

Now, he had mere weeks of free time before his new company opened for business, and he had been hoping to use some of that time to pursue his own projects. A frustrating mental block had stymied his experiments for the last few days, but tonight had almost proved fruitful thanks to a random interaction with a pedestrian in Diagon Alley. That was, of course, until an interruption of the Slytherin Git variety.

Enter Theodore Nott, stage left.

“You know, if you’d just unclench once in a while, you might actually have something akin to, dare I say, _fun._ ” said Theo, raising an eyebrow at the unamused look on his friend’s face. “I know it’s been a few years, but surely you remember how to have fun.”

“That is not the point,” Draco said. “I’ve been looking for a solution to this problem for _days_ , and you interrupted me just as I was getting somewhere. I had plans for tonight.”

“Do they really count as plans if it’s just you, a cauldron, and what I can only assume is a very boring copy of _Potion Masters Quarterly_?”

“I was _working_ , Theo!”

“You were being _boring_ , Draco. It’s Valentine’s Day! Just because you don’t have a date doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself! Look,” he said, pointing to a blackboard above the bar. “I’m pretty sure they’re doing a special on chocolate martinis.”

Draco paused, and then hopped off his chair to press his hand to the floor. “Hmm, no, not yet.” Climbing back into his chair, he dusted his hands off. Theo’s face had a _‘what the fuck?’_ look.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Giving his friend a look, Draco said, “Checking to see if Hell had frozen over, which would be the only way I’d ever choose to have one of those terrible concoctions.”

Theo laughed and held up his hands. “Fine, fine, I surrender.” He relaxed into his seat, and catching the eye of the barmaid, he ordered them each a non-chocolate based drink. Taking in the calm ambience of the room, Draco grudgingly admitted to himself that this was slightly less terrible than it could be.

Very slightly.

“How did you find out about this place, anyway?” Draco asked. “I didn’t think you frequented Muggle establishments. Oh, thanks.” The barmaid must have put a rush on their drinks because she’d come back quicker than Draco had expected. He wondered at that for a brief moment until he saw how her gaze lingered on Theo.

_Of course._

His lanky, sandy-haired friend was completely oblivious. Never mind the fact that he was already in a relationship, and wouldn’t do anything even if he _had_ noticed the look she gave him; he’d always been completely ignorant to people flirting with him. It had taken a literal Bludger to the head to make him realise that there were people in the world that wanted to date him. Few had their first date at St. Mungo’s, but Theo had always been special.

“I don’t, normally, but a friend recommended it,” Theo said. “They mentioned that it was out of the way enough to be fairly relaxed, but popular enough to be enjoyable. And I must say, it seems like they were bang on.” He leaned against the bar and gestured around the room. “Look at this place – quiet enough that we don’t have to scream at each other, yet full enough so that it doesn’t feel like Aunt Althea’s funeral reception. Merlin, that was sad,” he said, taking a deep sip of his whiskey. “Fifty Purebloods, one ballroom, and _no bar_.” He shuddered. “The horror.”

Draco snorted into his glass. “I can only imagine.”

Shaking off the memory, Theo grinned to himself. “Speaking of dreary occasions that require booze, that last place we were at wasn’t too bad. Would’ve paid good money to see certain people face those little teddy bears,” he snickered.

“They were dive bombing the patrons, Theo. Not exactly ideal for a night out,” Draco said, taking a contemplative sip.

“I know, I know, how many times do I have to apologise?” Theo caught a different bartender’s attention and held up two fingers, pointing at himself and Draco. “I was unaware that Weasley had sponsored that bar for the night.”

“That man is a menace,” Draco said, although there was no real bite to his words. He had made peace, or a close semblance of it, with the Weasleys in the years since he left Hogwarts. While he wasn’t a fan of practical jokes, he could at least appreciate the skill that went in to creating an aerially-inclined teddy bear. He’d just rather not be at the receiving end of one.

“He runs a joke shop, I’d hardly count him as a menace.”

Full of upper-class aplomb, Draco answered that with a simple two-fingered salute. Theo snickered to himself, seemingly content to sip his whiskey and bask in the mellow tunes coming from behind the bar.

As annoying as his best friend could be, Draco was grateful that he’d come out tonight. The potion could wait, and he had all day tomorrow to work on it. He made a mental note to check his supply of Sober Up potion when he made it home, as he had a feeling both he and Theo would need it before the night was done.

Just as he was contemplating whether or not he’d have to make a foraging trip before starting the potion in the morning, he was once again interrupted by his friend’s inherent need to question his entire purpose of being.

“So, shall we talk about the real reason you were hiding away in your workroom on a day that is ostensibly made for lovers?”

“I already told you, I was working,” Draco said, sighing.

“Mmm, of course.” Theo squinted at him. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that you’re mildly interested, and by that, I mean completely besotted, with our dear Miss Granger?”

“Wha- no.”

“Or that she has no idea of your affection, leaving you in a pit of despair?”

“Okay, that’s eno- ”

“Which of course mires you in misery, forcing your nearest and dearest to watch you sulk your days away?”

“For fuck’s sake, Theo, could you stop, I do not-”

“Oh, fair curly-haired beauty, wherefore art thou! He pines for you!”

“Salazar’s tits, _shush!_ ” Draco yanked Theo down, feeling a blush race up the back of his neck as a few patrons looked over. It seemed that there had already been quite a few drunken declarations this evening, as after a few seconds they all turned back to their own conversations, taking no further notice of the drunk young man.

“What part of our long friendship makes you think I enjoy public displays of idiocy?” Draco hissed.

“Come on, it’s Valentine’s Day! If ever there was a day to profess your love, it would be today!”

“Okay, don’t get me started at the ludicrous travesty that Valentine’s Day, let alone using it as an excuse for declarations of love.”

“But you two would be great together.” Theo looked at him with a confidence only the mildly-intoxicated could muster. “She’s a smart witch, you’re passably intelligent.” He winked as Draco rolled his eyes. “The two of you are friends, get on like a house on fire, and I’m not the only one who has noticed the sexual tension between you, so don’t try and deny it.” Waggling his eyebrows, Theo finished the rest of his drink in one swallow. “What, exactly, is holding you back here, my friend?”

In a less well-bred young man, the look on Draco’s face would be described as ‘dumbstruck guppy’. As it was, he had been raised with the standards of a wealthy nobleman in Renaissance Europe. Therefore, ‘merely stunned’ was a much more appropriate moniker.

Draco shook his head. “Sexual ten- are you kidding me, Theo? Since you seem willfully ignorant of certain facts, let me remind you of a few: namely, the six years I spent making her life a misery.” Draco was doing his best to keep his voice to a conversational volume. “Oh, and what about the fact that my family is the poster child for twisted Pureblood superiority? And let’s not forget the time that I was a part of a group that practically worshipped a maniacal Dark Lord who wanted to exterminate everyone like her?”

His breath left him in a harsh whoosh. “I’ve spent the last few years digging myself out from under the shadow of what generations of Malfoys have done, and I just . . . I’m happy to be her friend, Theo. I can’t ask for more than that.”

Draco wasn’t lying – he truly was happy to be Hermione’s friend. His life had been fairly hectic in the last few years (see: apprenticeship), so time with friends had been fairly limited. He’d made sure that she was one of the first people to receive an apology, and after a tumultuous few months, their fledgling friendship had grown stronger. While Draco had been in Potion Mastery hell, Hermione had been travelling the globe to learn from world-renowned Curse Breakers, so they’d both had tight social schedules. They’d tried to meet up whenever she was in London, and they had exchanged many owls and Floo calls over the years. He’d even managed to see her in Italy a few months ago, which had been wonderful. He’d needed to get away from everything for a few days, and she’d offered to show him around the city. They’d spent two days wandering the cobblestone streets, eating gelato and staring in wonder at the architecture. It was one of his best memories of the last year and featured prominently in some of his daydreams.

Shaking his head clear before he tripped down that particular rabbit hole, Draco wondered idly what Hermione was up to that night. He knew she was currently in the city, as she had a few weeks before she headed out on another assignment. Just like in school, Hermione never did things by halves – she was now one of the most sought-after Curse Breakers in the Magical world, and Draco honestly didn’t know how - .

“Wow. You are such an idiot.”

_If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was a Legilimens. Uncanny ability to interrupt a thought, I swear to_ fucking _Merlin . . ._

Draco raised his eyebrows, fixing Theo with a look beneath which a lesser man would quail. “And what, pray tell, helped you on the way to this conclusion, Theodore Ignatius?”

“Don’t try and scare me by using my full name, Draco Lucius,” Theo said, wagging his finger. “You are, in fact, a prat of the highest order. And full of angst. I mean, good grief.”

“Hey!”

“I stand by it.” Theo quaffed his drink and ordered another, doubling it when he saw Draco’s glass was also empty. “Ignoring the bit when you supported the Dark Lord, your taste and intuition are usually flawless. You’ve grown out of your prattish phase – thank Merlin – and you’re the closest thing to a brother that I have.” He lowered his voice, turning his body sideways so that he was looking directly at Draco. “You are also completely useless when it comes to Hermione Granger. Ah, thanks, mate. Life saver.” Theo took the glasses, nodding his thanks to the bartender as he slid one over to Draco.

Draco was still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened. He decided to focus on something less inflammatory first.

“I’m _angsty_?!”

“Like a full-blown Hogwarts fifth-year,” Theo said, taking a sip.

“Now that’s just rude.”

“Oh, really?” Theo looked at him, one eyebrow raised. “I’ll be the first to admit that you weren’t a great person at school. I can also admit that most of it wasn’t your fault – your father has a lot to answer for in that regard, not to mention the whole Dark Lord thing. But, that aside, you’ve grown into a solid human that I am honoured to call my friend. So when I say you’re acting like an angst-filled teenager, I mean it with all the love I hold for you.

“You’ve apologised to her, turned your life around, and found your passion. You’ve also locked yourself away in a lab, held yourself back from pursuing anything more than a friendship, and pined for her on a regular basis.” Theo tapped Draco’s chest with a finger. “Teenage. Angst.” Job done, he sat back, giving Draco some space to digest.

Draco opened his mouth to give him a scathing reply, then closed it again. _Is he right? Am I really that bad?_

He leant back in his chair and mulled over what Theo had said. As much as it pained him to admit it, he could see where Theo was coming from. He had held himself back from pursuing Hermione fully, using his apprenticeship and past actions as an excuse to putting a kibosh on his feelings.

It wasn’t that he thought himself unworthy of love or something stupid like that. He just . . . didn’t want to risk a friendship?

_Liar, liar, Slytherin Quidditch robes on fire._

Draco groaned, letting his head _thunk_ onto the bar.

“Well . . . fuck.”

Theo nodded in sympathy. “Yep. Pretty much.”

Draco rolled his head on the bar so that he could look up at his friend. “I am way too sober for where I know this conversation is going to go.”

“Well, that’s easily fixed. Barkeep!” Theo waved his hand in the manner of the slightly tipsy, but not obnoxiously drunk. “Another round for me and my good friend!”

“Right now, you’re playing fast and loose with the English language, Theodore,” Draco quipped.

“. . . ‘good’?”

Draco shook his head. “’Friend’.”

Theo guffawed, slapping Draco on the back. “Oh, you know you’re my favourite Slytherin. Just don’t let Pansy know, she’ll eat me alive. And not in the fun way.”

Draco felt a smile tugging his lips. “Yes, best leave that to- ”

“Ah, ah, ah, none of that! We’re here to focus on you, not remind me of the pleasurable company I am missing out on due to distance, professorships, and a dodgy Floo connection!” Theo’s eyes lit up, and rather than wait for the (understandably busy) bartender he swiped two glasses from a passing waiter’s tray. “To friendship! And getting Draco Malfoy to _finally_ admit the truth!”

Shaking his head, Draco took the glass, clinked, and downed it in one go. It was a fruity mess, sweet and tart with a curious hint of bitterness to cut through it all, and he was grateful that it contained no traces of chocolate. With a laugh, Theo joined him and finished his own glass.

“You know,” Draco said, “we just stole someone’s drink.”

“Ah, valid point! Barkeep!” _He really needs to stop doing that,_ Draco thought. At least he hadn’t stood up on his stool this time. The long-suffering bartender finally made his way over to them. “I seem to have purloined what were rather delicious, fruity concoctions,” Theo said. “Unfortunately, this means others have been deprived. Please send them a bottle of champagne, on me, to make up for this egregious insult.” The bartender, clearly used to drunken idiots, nonetheless had a smile for Theo’s overly flowery language. It probably helped that Theo was, if a touch drunk, very polite.

“Of course, mate. I’ll send it over now.”

“Brilliant! And since it appears we have finished these, let’s have another round!”

The bartender looked to Draco with an eyebrow raised. Draco shrugged and gave in, giving the man a nod. Once Theo got going, you couldn’t really stop him.

“Sure thing, mate. Two strawberry daiquiris, coming right up.” Looking like a kid at Christmas, Theo sat back down and turned to Draco, a huge smile on his face.

“You’ll see, Draco. Tonight will be great!” He gestured expansively at the room, which was still only about half full. “It’ll totally take your mind off -” Draco frowned as Theo stopped talking.

“Theo? What is it?” He scanned the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, squinting slightly against the lights. He had no idea what went into a daiquiri, but he assumed it was something strong. And delicious. And -

A flash of curls caught his eye in a far-off booth.

_It can’t be . . ._

“Theo,” he asked warningly, “which friend was it that told you about this place, exactly?”

“Uh, well, now that you mention it . . .” For someone well on their way to getting drunk, Theo did a pretty good job of looking guilty.

“Theo . . .”

“I’m sorry! I forgot it was her! And I didn’t think she’d be here tonight!”

“Merlin’s left one,” Draco groaned. “This is less than ideal.” Theo shrugged, giving him a _‘What can you do?’_ look, and Draco sighed.

Admitting that there was a possibility he would go over to her once he’d had a few more drinks ( _What could possibly go wrong with_ that _plan?),_ the two of them proceeded to turn the conversation to slightly lighter topics. Theo was pushy when he wanted to be, but he tempered that with good sense. Draco knew that he would pick his moment to talk about it again, and he was happy to let the conversation flow for the moment.

Time passed, and partway through a very interesting debate about the worthiness of some of the International Quidditch squads, Draco felt himself getting quite warm all over. Annoyingly, he couldn’t cast a quick cooling charm surrounded by Muggles, so he figured he’d just have to suffer through it.

Draco undid a button, hoping the extra air would help. He’d taken to wearing Muggle suits lately, as he did quite a bit of business in Muggle London. His jacket had long since been thrown over the back of his chair, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to mid-forearm – it was after regular office hours, so he had foregone the waistcoat, cufflinks, and tie for the evening. Theo was dressed similarly, although Draco wasn’t sure if it was due to spending more time in non-Magical London, or because he was dating someone who had been raised by Muggles and he was trying to make an effort. Either way, both of them wore high quality Muggle kit, so Draco couldn’t understand how a pure cotton shirt had suddenly become as cumbersome as three layers of wool.

Theo was going off on the quality of Wasps’ Beaters versus the brilliance of the Harpies’ Chasers, but Draco was finding it difficult to concentrate. The music wasn’t loud, and while the bar was full it wasn’t exactly jam packed, so why had the volume of the room increased? He shook his head, noting that his eyes lagged as he did. Something tickled at the back of his brain. He should be worried about this, right? Yes, they’d had a few drinks, but not nearly enough for this type of reaction. And he was still much too warm. He undid another button.

And another.

And another.

“Whoa, Draco, what are you doing? Seeing my best mate half naked is so not on my bucket list.” Theo looked around to make sure no-one else had noticed what was going on. “Especially not in public.”

“I’m hot,” Draco said, continuing to work on the buttons of his shirt, feeling a great sense of relief when he reached the last one and felt a breeze on his chest.

“Mother of – Draco!” Theo leaped out of his chair, moving his body so that he blocked Draco from the rest of the room. Batting Draco’s hands away, he started redoing buttons. “What has gotten into you?” he hissed.

Draco felt his head lolling back, suddenly overcome with sleepiness. _How long have we been here? This . . . this doesn’t feel right._

He snapped his eyes open, meeting Theo’s worried gaze. “Something isn’t right, Theo. I feel -” he shook his head, trying to pull his thoughts together, “ - woolly.”

“Oi, mate, get us some more water, please?” Draco winced at Theo’s volume as he called on the bartender. The guy in question took one look at a partially undressed, swaying-in-his-seat Draco, and brought them over faster than Draco thought possible. If it hadn’t been a Muggle bar, Draco would’ve thought the man had Apparated. One second he was at the other end of the bar, the next he was in front of them with a pitcher and two glasses.

He shook his head again. _That can’t be right, can it?_ He knew something was wrong, he just couldn’t bring it into focus. Time was being weird.

_Heh, time IS weird. Why aren’t more people talking about that?_

“– shields up?”

Dragging his eyes to Theo’s seemed to take a lot more effort than usual.“Hmpf?”

“Fucking hell, the one time we’re in a Muggle bar and I can’t use my bloody wand.”

Draco could hear Theo muttering angrily to himself, but couldn’t bring himself to focus on why.

“Draco!”

_Oh, good, now he’s shaking me_.

“Draco, mate, _put your shields up_.”

_Why would I have shields, I’m not a Roman infantryman._ For some reason, he found that thought incredibly funny.

“Godric’s balls, Draco, don’t do this to me.” Theo looked around furtively, then leaned in closer to Draco and wandlessly cast a small stinging hex.

“Ow! Fucking hell, Theo!” Clarity hit him like a brick, the sting of pain cutting through the fog. He gasped, eyes finding Theo’s. “What . . . what’s happening?”

Theo looked worried. “I think one of those drinks we snagged off the tray might have been drugged. We’ve got to get you to St. Mungo’s, but we can’t Apparate from here so I’m going to need you to hold it together for just a bit longer, okay?” Draco nodded. “Can you get your shields up? I don’t know if it’ll help, but we have to try something.”

_Occlumency shields. Right. Okay._

Mind starting to fuzz again, Draco went to work building up his walls. Bricks and mortar, just like he was taught. It was difficult; there was a persistent cloud dampening everything, making it a struggle to focus. He frowned, feeling beads of sweat pop out on his forehead. Every so slowly he pushed the fog back, feeling it hovering around the edges of his consciousness.

“I’ve done the best I can, but it’s draining me more than it usually does.” He winced, not opening his eyes. “I’m not sure how long I can hold it.”

“Okay, okay, right,” Theo muttered to himself. “Right! Let’s get out of here. We’re not too far from an Apparation point, we’ll get you better in no time.” Slinging one of Draco’s arms across his shoulders, he manoeuvred both of away from the bar and towards the exit.

They were halfway across the room when a thought struck Draco.

“Theo, we stole the drinks.”

“Well, technically _I_ stole the drinks, however I’m sure the champagne has soothed any wounds.” Theo was clearly focusing on getting them out – not an easy task when he had to shoulder most of Draco’s weight. Draco was doing his best, but his muscles had started doing odd things.

“No, no, Theo, listen to me.” Draco pulled them to a stop. “Those drinks weren’t meant for us.”

“So? I’m sure they’re enjoying the bubbles, Draco. Let’s go.”

“Dammit, Theo!” Draco pulled out of his grasp, wobbling slightly on his feet. “Think about it. I wasn’t supposed to drink that one, the person who ordered it was meant to have it. So-”

“So, whoever drugged it got the wrong person. Fucking hell.” Theo pushed his hands through his hair, looking back at the bar and then at Draco. “Okay. Okay, you’re right, we can’t just not say anything. Whoever it was might try again.” He covered his face with his palms. “I also can’t just leave you here.”

“You have to warn them, Theo, they could be in danger.” A stabbing pain went through his head. “And I’ll be fine for another few minutes, just drop me at a table somewhere, I don’t think I can stand for much longer.”

“Fuck!” Theo quickly wrapped his arm around Draco again, and they started their slow walk to the door. “Alright, I’ll go and warn the bartender. Oh, look, I’ve found you a seat!”

Before Draco had a chance to say anything, he found himself dropped into a seat next to a surprisingly familiar face.

_Oh, fucking hell._

~oOo~

It had been a very long, hard day.

Hermione had assumed her evening would be fairly low key. With Neville being stuck in some gods-forsaken part of the South American jungle, Pansy had corralled Hermione into going out for the night. Hermione had been happy to oblige, as a long week had led to an overwhelming desire to simply have a few drinks and forget about the responsibilities of life for a little while.

She was pleased with how her work was progressing. She’d just finished up a tricky project in Damascus, and was quite glad to have a bit of breathing space before she had to head out on her next assignment. And she had no problem being out with a close friend instead of a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day, no matter what said close friend intimated at every opportunity.

The problem was her companion, currently drinking her cocktail in a manner that would no doubt have been banned in a less liberal time. Hermione still didn’t know how Pansy made sipping a drink through a straw an erotic act. She’d seen countless men, and not too few women, get completely distracted by the way the witch imbibed, and it never failed to pique her curiosity. Was it the way she held the glass, leaving the straw at just the right angle so that there was no unladylike slurping? Or was it how her lips pursed in an innocent oval, leaving just enough to the imagination? Perhaps it was the lips themselves, always perfectly made up, never a smudge to be seen.

“So why you haven’t you snogged him senseless yet?”

Jolted out of her musing, Hermione choked on her mouthful of cider.

“Umm, excuse me?”

Pansy’s drink, now finished, was thankfully put aside. “I said, why you have yet to make a move on our dear Draco?” She raised one perfectly manicured brow.

Hermione blinked, looking down at the empty glass on the table. “How strong was that drink, exactly?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Don’t toy with me, Granger, answer the bloody question.”

“I thought this was meant to be a nice night out, not an interrogation.”

Pansy waved her hands in the air as if to clear it of the suggestion. “It’s Valentine’s Day, and my boyfriend is stuck in some plant-infested jungle, so allow me to indulge in a spot of overdue matchmaking.”

“I’d hardly call it overdue,” Hermione said. “We’ve become very good friends over the last few years, but we haven’t actually spent that much physical time together.”

“Physical time is definitely something the two of you should be doing.” Pansy arched her eyebrows suggestively. “Speaking from prior experience, age could have only improved Draco’s stam-"

“Okay, what made you think that I’d want to hear _anything_ about your sex life with Draco?” Hermione shuddered. “I suddenly have a lot more sympathy for what Ginny had to deal with when I was dating Ron.”

“Please tell me you’re not likening your feelings for Draco as brotherly.”

“Well, we are very close, and we do argue a lot-"

“No!” Pansy slapped her hand on the table before pointing an accusatory finger. “As your friend, I refuse to let you talk yourself into yet another brotherly friendship – one is more than enough.”

Hermione sniffed at her. “I’ll have you know that my friendship with Harry is one of the best I’ve ever had, and I would do anything for him. He’s my brother in everything but blood.” She gulped at the sudden predatory look in Pansy’s eyes.

_Oh, this so doesn’t bode well._

“Alright, let’s play with that a little,” Pansy said, looking entirely too eager at the way the conversation was going. “You’re saying that your feelings towards Draco could be termed as ‘brotherly affection. Now,” Pansy leaned forward, “think about shagging Harry.”

Immediately, Hermione shuddered. Thinking about Harry that way was just wrong on so many levels. Never mind that he was in a relationship and would no sooner look at her that way than she would him, it still felt plain icky.

“I can tell from the look of pure disgust on your face that you’re not keen on that plan,” Pansy said.

“You would be correct. Ugh, can you imagine, me and Harry doing – nope, I can’t even say it.” Hermione shook her head as another full-body shudder raced up her spine.

“Now, imagine shagging Draco.”

She tried to stop her mind going there, but Pansy’s words were insidious. Immediately, she was inundated with images, a decent portion of them from her previous imaginings. Draco as she’d last seen him, fit and dressed in a Muggle suit, jacket left behind but waistcoat on, shirtsleeves rolled up to mid-forearm. The light hit his white-blonde hair at just the right angle to make it gleam, and he was smirking at her, relaxing with his arms crossed.

That part was a memory; what came next was pure fantasy.

He was threading his fingers through her hair as he kissed her, pushing her back and pressing his weight into her. Electricity was shooting up and down her spine, heat pooling low in her belly as she gripped his shoulders in her hands. He held her close and she trailed her hands down his chest, reaching for –

“Wow, I think I just got a contact high from whatever _that_ was.” Pansy’s comment interrupted her daydream. Hermione blushed as Pansy shot her a lascivious look, fanning herself with one hand. “Good grief, Hermione, I didn’t realise you’d make my point for me. I thought I was up for more of a challenge.”

“So I may have had a few thoughts,” Hermione admitted, feeling her face burn. “It doesn’t mean I should act on them.”

“Why not? From what I’ve gleaned from Draco, he would very much like to make _that_ ,” Pansy gestured at Hermione, “come true. Why haven’t you two talked about this?”

Hermione considered the question and went with the easiest answer. “The timing just never seemed to work out,” she said, shrugging. “Which is understandable. He’s spent the last five years practically glued to his cauldron, and I’ve been travelling-"

“I don’t think you can term what you’ve been doing as just ‘travelling’, Hermione,” Pansy drawled. “You trained for years with a number of highly respected Curse Breakers, and then proceeded to visit the most dangerous sites possible, in some of the most dangerous countries in the world. It’s not like you took a week off to go to Ibiza for some sun.”

“Ha! I _did_ go to Ibiza!” Hermione said triumphantly.

“Did you go for sun?” Pansy queried.

“. . . No.” Deflated, Hermione leant back in her seat.

“I rest my case.”

Huffing out a breath, Hermione continued. “Okay, but that’s my point. I’ve barely been in London, and I don’t see that changing any time soon. I love my work, I’m not going to give it up simply because it would make for a more convenient booty call.”

“Alright, I’m going to stop you right there. First off, good luck thinking it would only be a booty call; that man has wanted you for years and would settle for nothing less than all of you. Second, and stop trying to interrupt me, you know I’m right, you’re part of a world that quite literally has magic at its fingertips. Are you telling me that there would be no way whatsoever to make a long-distance relationship work?” She looked intently at Hermione, willing her to see her point.

Hermione took a moment to think through what Pansy had said. She hadn’t been lying when she answered Pansy – she had definitely thought about it. The last few years had solidified the friendship between her and Draco into something incredibly special, and more often than not Hermione had found herself daydreaming of what a romantic relationship with him would be like.

The flights of fancy had tended to fizzle out quite quickly once the logical part of her mind remembered that she spent most months of the year away from England. Hermione had never allowed herself to dwell on the ease of magical travel, and how it could absolutely make a long-distance relationship somewhat easier. She’d always maintained it was because she had so little time for anything outside of her work, especially when she was on a site, but was that the real reason she hadn’t considered it? Or had she pushed away the thought of a relationship not because she was afraid of the difficulties it could bring, but because of what it might mean for her friendship with Draco if he rejected her? Or, if they tried, but had the distance break them?

Struck by the thought, she looked at Pansy with wide eyes, for once in her life unable to properly articulate what she was thinking. Pansy, Merlin bless her, had at some point ordered two whiskies. She pushed one across the table to Hermione, smiling in sympathy at the look on Hermione’s face. “Revelations hit like a Bludger, sometimes, don’t they.”

Hermione pushed aside her half-finished cider and grabbed the whiskey. “And here’s me, hating Quidditch.”

Pansy let out a peal of laughter, and Hermione managed a small grin.

“Well, you’re right about that, Granger,” Pansy said. “Here’s to long overdue surprises, and the delicious packages they come in.” Raising her glass, she tilted it towards Hermione.

“Hear, hear.” Lifting her own glass, she clinked with Pansy and downed it in one, savouring the burn of the alcohol down her throat.

“Knowing you, you need a moment to overthink what just happened.” Pansy smiled at her friend and picked up her bag. “Conveniently, I need to visit the facilities, so I’ll leave you to it.” Walking past Hermione, Pansy gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “We shall discuss strategy upon my return.” Heels tapping, she left Hermione to her thoughts.

Mind awhirl, Hermione pushed away her empty whisky tumbler and picked up cider, inhaling the delicious aroma of tart apples. Pansy was right, she definitely needed a moment. She knew Draco was free for the next few weeks – should she invite him out for a drink? Dinner? A night of unabashed debauchery?

Laughing quietly to herself at that last idea, Hermione was brought racing back to the present by a sudden appearance of a body half-falling into her booth.

“What in the name of -” Only a quick shift to the right and a change of hands saved her from wearing her drink as the very subject of her thoughts was shoved almost onto her lap.

_Thank goodness Pansy is in the bathroom, she’d have a field day with this._

“Sorry about that,” said a muffled voice from around the slumped form of Draco Malfoy. Hermione leaned around him to see who had spoken.

“Theo?” she gaped.

Pushing sandy brown hair out of his eyes, the young man in question smiled at the bushy-haired witch. Well, grimaced was more appropriate, thought Hermione. His lips were tight, lines deepening at the corners of his eyes, and he kept a steady hand on Draco’s shoulder.

“Once again, apologies, Granger. There was a bit of a situation at the bar.” Theo’s jaw tensed even more, if that were possible. “Draco’s drink was spiked.”

Hermione gasped, feeling first a rush of horror, then a rush of anger, sweep through her. Scenes flashed behind her eyes like stills from an old movie. All the warnings from her mother. Stories from her friends. Learning spells that would help detect any foreign matter in her drinks.

She thought of all the times she’d sat at the bar with her hand held subconsciously over her drink, only really noticing she was doing it when Harry or Ron made a passing comment. The times she had sent back drinks that were ordered for her by people wanting to buy one for the Golden Girl, just in case someone had tampered with them on the way over to her table.

No matter how cautious you were, there was still a chance it could happen. And every woman on the planet knew that fear.

“Merlin, what was it? Do you know?” she breathed, drink forgotten. “He needs to get to St. Mungo’s, I only know a few spells and I can’t exactly use them here-"

“Yes, I know, we’re on our way there now-”

“So why are you still here, he needs to get tested right away, some of these new drugs leave the system quite quickly, you know-"

“I am well aware, I just needed to-”

“-not to mention he’ll be feeling awful, I honestly don’t know why you’re waiting-”

“ _He_ is sitting right here, you know.”

Hermione heard her teeth click as she snapped her mouth shut. Theo looked equally surprised, especially when Draco pushed his head off the table and leaned back into the booth. He cracked an eyelid, a small huff of laughter escaping when he saw them both looking at him.

“Just because I have who-knows-what swirling through my system right now doesn’t mean I’ve gone deaf.”

Both Theo and Hermione looked suitably chastened.

“Uh, right, of course.” Without a second thought she reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. An unreadable expression crossed his face as he looked at where her smaller hands covered his larger ones. It was gone before she could mention it. Her analytical brain noticed that his hands were damp with perspiration, and something twisted in her chest.

She hated that someone had hurt him.

“What happened, exactly?” she asked, thumbs running soothingly over his knuckles. “Did someone follow the two of you here and spike the drink in some sort of twisted revenge scheme?”

“Doubtful, although thanks for that mental image,” Draco said, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from their joined hands. “I’m afraid it’s slightly more complicated than that.”

“What? Why?”

“Theo? Could you enlighten the lady, please?” Carrying on a conversation was clearly taking a toll on him, if the vague slurring was any indication.

“Draco wasn’t targeted. He was an unwitting bystander in this, whatever this is,” Theo said, waving his hands as if to encompass the whole situation. “It wasn’t his drink; it was hers.” Theo tilted his head towards the other side of the room. Hermione leaned around Draco and saw a young woman talking and laughing, clearly out with her friends for a fun night.

“I liberated the drink from a waiter’s tray as they were passing us and ordered a bottle of champagne for their table as an apology.” Theo was surprisingly unapologetic about his thievery, and Hermione frowned.

“You stole someone’s drink? Seriously?”

“Focus, Granger,” Malfoy said tiredly.

“Sorry, I was distracted by the petty larceny,” she snipped.

“Is it petty larceny if the drinks hadn’t reached them yet?” he mused, exhaustion tinging his words.

“They’d paid for them, hadn’t they? And the drinks were taken without their consent? Sounds like petty larceny to me.” Hermione said tartly.

“Okay, they were two drinks, Granger, not the crown jewels. Merlin, why you didn’t become a lawyer-”

“That’s beside the point, Malfoy, you still stole–”

“Technically, Theo was the one who took them, not me-”

“Sufferin’ Circe, could you two stop arguing for three seconds?” Theo’s exasperated voice broke through their conversation. Hermione immediately felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, this is not the time. What were you saying, Theo?” Theo sighed, shaking his head at the both of them.

“I took the drinks intended for someone else.”

“Right, so that means–”

“It means that _she_ was the target, not Draco.” Theo’s lips tightened in anger. “I have to go and warn the bartender that someone in here is spiking drinks. _That’s_ why we’re taking so long – Galahad here wants to make sure whoever did that to a drink doesn’t get the opportunity do it again. And on that note, I’ll be right back.” Nodding to Hermione, he gave Draco a look that Hermione couldn’t quite decipher before hurrying off.

Hermione took a moment to digest what Theo had just said. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, she took small glances around the room.

_Who was it?_

_Is it the young guy in the corner with his friends?_

_What about the older guy at the bar, sitting alone and not saying much?_

Thoughts whirling, she looked at Draco. He was pale and sweating, eyes tightly closed and with fists clenched under her grip. His breathing seemed fine, although it was clear he was focusing hard on keeping his breaths slow and even.

“Are you sure you’re okay to wait another few minutes while Theo sorts this out?”

“I’m fine, Granger,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I really think you should both just leave now. Or, I could take you, and have Theo meet up with us later-”

“I said it’s fine!”

Clenching her jaw, she gave him a tight nod and sat back. Thoughts swirled in her mind as she did – visions of a cloudy figure slipping drops into various drinks, of women stumbling into alleyways, of shadows separating and following them. She looked at Draco, itching to do something. She wanted to get up and take him to St. Mungo’s immediately, she wanted to rail at the bartender for letting something like this happen, she wanted -

“Merlin, Granger, stop thinking so hard. I’m barely holding these shields as it is,” Draco groaned, words slurring as his face paled even further.

“Oh!” She startled in surprise. “You can hear that?”

“No, I can’t read your thoughts, unclench.” He still looked awful, even with the slight smile now gracing his pale face. “Heightened emotions are a whole other thing, however, and yours are a handful right now. I seem to be more open to them than I usually am, and it’s making it difficult to push through the fog.”

“Of course, I’m sorry. I’ll try to think calm thoughts,” Hermione said. “Although, it would be interesting to see how your Occlumency plays against a mind altering substance,” she mused.

“Well, if it’s anything like that time Theo and I tried mushrooms, I’m simply going to have a bitch of a headache tomorrow,” Draco deadpanned. “Although the whiskey probably has first dibs on that, now that I think about it.”

Hermione laughed, the tension breaking a bit with his levity.

“It’s nice to see you in person for once, Malfoy.” She jostled his side carefully. “Feels like it’s been an age.”

“Good to see you as well, Granger,” he said. “And it’s been a good, what, six months since Venice?” He was speaking deliberately, concentrating on each word.

“Mmm, about that,” she mused, studiously pushing away the vision of him looking delectable on the Bridge of Sighs.

_Five months, three weeks, and two days, but who’s really counting?_

_You have a serious problem, Hermione._

_Of course I do, I’m arguing with myself._

They fell into a lull, and Hermione gritted her teeth in an attempt to quell her inner monologue.

“So, what are you doing here of all places?”

Hermione started, gathering her thoughts. “I’m actually with Pansy, she’s just popped to the loo. Although she seems to be taking her sweet time getting back to the table, now that I think about it.”

“Shouldn’t she be spending the night with Longbottom? I thought that was the whole idea of this wretched day.” Draco leaned into her a bit more. Hermione noted that he seemed to be working hard to stay focused on her.

_Maybe the conversation is helping to distract him?_

“Yes, well, Neville is currently stuck somewhere in South America,” she said, rolling her eyes at his anti-Valentine’s Day sentiment. She’d forgotten how he got on this holiday. “They’ll celebrate when he’s back in the country.”

“Of course he is. And don’t think I didn’t see you rolling your eyes, you know I’m right. I am burdened with an abundance of good taste which this holiday, clearly, is not. And that leads me to my next question,” Draco said, angling his head so that he could look at her without moving too much. “Answer me this, my friend.” He comically narrowed his eyes, the hint of a smile giving away his true intent. “What on Merlin’s sweet earth are you wearing?” He lifted his chin, the one brief gesture encompassing her entire ensemble.

Hermione blinked at the shift in topic. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Oh, nothing, except it’s all red, and not in the weirdly supportive ‘I’m a Gryffindor’ way. You look like the human personification of a bonfire.” He squinted at the top of her head. “And you’re wearing a headband with a bobble heart on it.”

Hermione raised her free hand to her head, feeling the plush heart on its coiled spring nestled between her curls. “Well, red is a traditional colour for Valentine’s Day, so I thought I’d lean into the curve.”

Draco made a face like he’d just ingested Bubotuber pus. “Oh, not you, too!” he exclaimed.

“What? This can’t be unexpected, we’ve had this discussion many times over the years. You know how I feel about today!” Hermione said.

Draco settled further into the seat and closed his eyes, the furrow between his eyes a new symptom of his pained concentration. “And even after all these years, I still think you’re an idiot.”

“Oi!” Hermione refrained from slapping him on the arm, but only barely.

Draco cracked an eye open and grinned at her indignation. “You’re adorable when you’re angry, you know that, right?”

Hermione squinted at him, muttering various obscenities under her breath.

“If you weren’t currently drugged against your will, Draco . . .”

“I know, I know, you’d hex me to next week.”

“Next _month_.”

He patted her hand, and she settled into his side, doing her best to find a balance between justified jostling and bodily support.

_Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I put up with him._

“So, to circle back to my point before I was so rudely threatened with bodily harm-”

“Malfoy, I swear-”

“- this bloody day is commercialised to crap and back. It’s a blatant excuse for companies to upcharge everything in the hope that poor fools will part with their hard-earned money over meaningless tatt.” He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. “You should show your love every day, not on a day that is noted as ‘show your loved one you like them with these stereotypical roses and a box of chocolate’. It’s just so cliché.”

It appeared that his diatribe had taken most of his energy, so Hermione took a moment to check on Theo’s whereabouts. He was still deep in conversation with the bartender, and Hermione sent him a very forceful mental hurry up.

Leaning around Draco had caused her to press up against him, the table in front of them leaving little room for her to manoeuvre. He felt warm, but not overly so. Hermione let herself appreciate the brief feeling of his hard body underneath hers before pulling back and seating herself next to him again. She’d managed to keep a hold of his hand, and drew it back onto her lap.

Looking down at their hands, she took a breath. “I feel like we’ve discussed this topic to death via owl, so let me attempt to be succinct: you’re a muppet.” The contrast of his pale skin with hers, slightly tanned from the outdoors, was intriguing.

_I’m sure there’s a suitable metaphor in there somewhere, but bugger me if I want to find it right now._

This time, it was Draco’s turn to be indignant.

“ _I’m_ a muppet?!” he said, sputtering. “I’m merely pointing out that corporations are-”

“Okay,” she interrupted. “You say that a person should love their partner every day, no matter the day?”

“Yes.”

“So, why not both?” Hermione shrugged, looking up at him from under her lashes. “Why not love your partner each and every day, including Valentine’s Day? Just because it has been commercialised to hell and back doesn’t preclude it from being meaningful, and it also doesn’t take away the love and care shown on other days of the year. Yes, it’s a day that many people use as an excuse for sweeping declarations of love, but in all honestly it really doesn’t hold any great meaning unless you want it to. It’s simply a day with a slightly higher saturation of chocolate.”

With her free hand Hermione reached for her mug and swirled the remainder of her cider, watching as a mini-whirlpool formed. “Stuff can be two things, Draco.” She felt his fingers twitch against hers. They were both in the habit of using last names with each other, and Hermione had forgotten how much he liked it when she used his given name. “I do think that a lot of people put too much pressure on themselves, not to mention their partner, when it comes to Valentine’s Day. But I’m not here to judge them or solve their problems. I simply want to enjoy the day. And if my enjoyment is with a friend, or a loved one, or by myself, then it’s a day well spent.”

After a few moments with no response, Hermione chanced another look at him. He looked contemplative rather than combative, so Hermione chose to stay silent as well. She tried to think calm, bland thoughts.

_Broccoli. The smell of papyrus. A placid lake on a peaceful summer day._

“It’s not my fault, you know.” Draco’s whisper interrupted the silence. Hermione looked up at him from where she’d been gazing into space, thoughts of cruciferous vegetables forgotten for the moment.

“Pardon?”

“It’s not my fault that this happened.” His jaw was clenched, and for the first time Hermione thought it had nothing to do with the internal war he was waging.

“Why are you – the spiked drink? I know it’s not your fault.” She was thoroughly confused.

“I was at the bar with Theo, and it just- wait, what?” Draco’s gaze flicked to her, for the moment somewhat more clear-eyed. “You . . . agree with me?”

“What, like that’s so difficult to believe?” Hermione huffed out a breath. “Of course it’s not your fault, you were literally drugged against your will.”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Did you really think I would blame this on you?” Hermione knew she shouldn’t feel hurt by this, and yet here she was. She worried her bottom lip, concern pinching the corners of her eyes.

“Honestly? No,” he sighed. “I just . . . everything is so muddled right now, I felt like I had to say something.”

The hurt melted away as quickly as it had come. Hermione cupped his jaw in her palm, turning his face so that she could look him dead in the eyes. “Draco. I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now, but please hear me when I say that _this is not your fault_.” She could tell it was taking more and more effort to maintain his concentration, and her heart ached for him.

“I know things aren’t always what they seem, and the fact that society still has this _need_ to blame the victim in situations like this really annoys me. Blaming you for this is ridiculous! It happened _to_ you, not _because_ of you.” Hermione gave his jaw one last touch, ignoring the sparkling sensation in her fingertips as she reclaimed her hand. “This is not your fault, Draco, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Promise me.”

He smiled at her, and nodded, wincing slightly when he did. “I promise.” He squeezed her hand, gazing into her eyes as if he could really read her thoughts.

_Good thing he can’t, otherwise this could get really awkward._

She looked back at him, seeing weariness, determination, and something that in any other man, she would have said was longing.

_Wait, was that . . ._

Hermione gulped as she watched Draco’s eyes flash silver, his grip on her hand tightening. She found she was quite incapable of looking away.

“ _Hermione . . ."_

He reached out and tugged one of her curls. She was frozen to her seat, not daring to move lest she break the moment. Not that anything would happen. Draco was currently fighting against his own mind, and Hermione would be damned if she’d take advantage of that, no matter what she felt.

She watched the heat in his eyes blaze as he leaned closer. Hermione pressed a hand to his chest, drawing in a quick breath as she felt his rapid heartbeat. He opened his mouth to say something, but a pained grimace crossed his face before he could. He leaned away, raising his free hand to grip the side of his head.

“Draco, are you- _Draco_!”

Hermione reached for him just as he collapsed.

~oOo~

Their argument ( _discussion? Who knew, with them_ ) had helped to focus his mind briefly. Draco could feel the drug pushing him, sending insidious tendrils through his walls to lay waste to his thoughts.

Draco knew he’d been holding her hand for longer than appropriate, even between friends, but he was finding it quite difficult to care. It was becoming more and more of a challenge to focus. He could feel the drug, whatever it was, pushing on his mind, and it was taking most of his concentration to not let it get through.

Then she’d said his name, and his heart had nearly stopped.

What was it about hearing his name that made him feel like this? Was it the name itself? Or that it came from her?

“. . . don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Promise me.”

He smiled at her, squeezing her hand as he said, “I promise.”

He ran his eyes over her face; smooth skin with a hint of freckles – no doubt from her travels to warmer climes - framed by lively brunette curls, lips that were both devastatingly inviting and slightly parted. Warm topaz eyes locked on his own. Draco felt like he could fall into her, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t due to his light-headedness.

“ _Hermione . . ."_

He reached out his free hand to tug gently at a curl that had escaped from behind her headband. It felt soft beneath his fingertips, and he could smell the faintest hint of cinnamon. He leaned forward, needing to let her know what he felt, when darkness appeared at the edges of his vision. The pain in his head spiked. His eyes snapped closed, and he gripped the side of his head, willing the pain away. The pressure built and built, and nothing he could do would make it stop. He could hear someone calling his name, but it was a faraway sound.

The pain ratcheted up, and he couldn’t fight it anymore.

He opened his eyes, and the last thing he saw before darkness consumed his vision was Hermione Granger’s worried eyes looking into his own as he fell into her arms.

~oOo~

Theo tapped his fingers impatiently on the bar. He’d found a rogue vial of Sober Up potion in one of his pockets, and had quaffed it without anyone being the wiser. Mind somewhat clearer and hangover postponed if not entirely prevented, he was waiting for the bartender (whose name was Sloane, Theo had discovered) to return. Sloane had been grateful for the heads-up, and had said that he would keep an eye out for anything suspicious. He’d also mentioned that Theo would need to speak with the owner about what had happened tonight, and was currently writing down contact details. Theo knew he’d have to speak to the Aurors before coming back here, what with the whole Muggle/wizard aspect of it, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

_Maybe Granger could help out with that side of things. What’s the point of being one-third of the Golden Trio if you can’t get special treatment from the Auror Department?_

His musings were interrupted by the arrival of a very familiar perfume.

“Theodore Nott, please tell me that Draco has chosen tonight of all nights to confess his feelings for our dear Miss Granger.”

Pansy Parkinson was a vision in form-fitting black silk, a splash of hot pink at her throat (a silk scarf, if Theo wasn’t mistaken) and imbued in her five-inch heels the only nod to the day’s colour scheme.

Pressing a kiss to her proffered cheek, Theo shook his head.

“I wish, although that’s not the case.” He took a deep breath, knowing this wouldn’t be easy for her to hear. “He was drugged, Pansy. I’m just finishing up with the bartender now, although I will have to come back tomorrow for a statement.” A backhand to the arm proved his first point almost immediately.

“Why didn’t you take him to St. Mungo’s right away?” Pansy’s accusation crackled through the air.

“Okay, first off, ow,” he said, rubbing his bicep. “Secondly, the drink wasn’t meant for our favourite dragon, it was intended for someone else. And I’d rather not have the thought of another innocent person’s drugging on my conscience, thanks ever so.” Theo ran his hands through his hair. “I was all set to take him, but he insisted I go back and make sure these guys knew what was going on.”

Pansy sniffed at him disdainfully before blowing her fringe off her forehead. “Well. You’ve definitely changed in your old age, Theodore. Thinking about others?” She quirked a brow. “How very Gryffindor of you. I’m assuming this change is due to that professor you’re dating?”

“Putting the needs of others above their own wants and desires?” Theo drawled. Sloane had come back while he’d been talking with Pansy, and Theo nodded his thanks as he took the piece of paper from him. He glanced briefly at the scribbled details before turning to Pansy. “It’s almost like you’ve had dealings with a Gryffindor before, Pans’.” He batted a hand at one of the balloons currently drifting across the room. A few had been liberated by various patrons, and had just enough buoyancy to drift annoyingly into conversations. In a weird twist of fate, these balloons had pink bears imprinted on them. Theo chuckled at the co-incidence, while at the same time making a mental note to ensure Draco didn’t see them.

They both started back towards the table. “It is rather sickening at times, isn’t it? What would our parents think if they saw us now?” Pansy mused.

“Two Slytherins, each dating a Gryffindor? You, a lowly gardener (their words, Merlin! Stop hitting me!), and me, the saviour of the Wizarding world? They’d be rolling in their mausoleums, Pansy dearest,” Theo said, and Pansy snorted at the image. “At least with mine, they could probably overlook the whole ‘he’s a man’ thing due to the whole ‘defeated the Dark Lord thrice’ thing.”

“Hmmm, you have a point there,” she mused. “Whereas I would simply be ‘marrying beneath my station’, as if that even matters,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Theo nodded. “And for extra fun,” he continued, “if you listen closely, you can almost hear the sounds of our well-bred lineages fizzling out of existence.”

Pansy’s full-throated laugh was cut abruptly short as they arrived back at the table.

“Draco!”

“Hermione!”

Pansy rushed to Hermione’s side and Theo pulled an incoherent Draco off of her. Hermione waved her friend away, instead sliding around to the other side of the booth so that she could stand up.

“He just collapsed on me, I think he pushed too hard to keep it at bay. We have to get him to St. Mungo’s. _Now._ ”

Theo knew better than to argue with that tone. Cursing the time he had spent bantering with Pansy while his friend suffered, he let Hermione take Draco’s other side and they double-timed it to the door. Pansy ran ahead and opened the door for them.

The next few minutes seemed to condense and stretch in equal measure. In reality, Theo knew it wasn’t that far to the Apparation point, but they seemed to travel half the usual distance with every step. Draco was fully out of it now, head lolling and legs barely supporting his weight. The height difference between Theo and Draco was negligible, but the difference in his and Hermione’s was quite noticeable. Theo wasn’t about to suggest she switch with Pansy, however, so he kept going, shouldering as much of Draco’s deadweight as he could.

“Here!” Pansy gestured to them from the mouth of an alley, and after a quick look around they darted in. Theo took Draco’s full weight in his arms as Hermione slipped out. They nodded to each other, and with one last glance around, the air was soon filled with the _crack!_ of Apparation.

~oOo~

The Healers at St. Mungo’s knew their stuff. Draco was checked into a private suite and swiftly assessed, with the Healers confirming what Hermione, Theo, and Pansy already knew – Draco had been drugged.

“And they get years of extra training to tell us this?” Theo had muttered to Hermione. She’d stifled a giggle that bordered on being hysterical and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Stop it, you git. They’re still explaining, and I’d like to know what else they’re doing to help.”

Oblivious to the quiet discussion going on in front of them, the lead Healer had continued to explain that it had been a Muggle drug with no Wizarding potion mixed in. That had been good news, as the Wizarding world was only now coming to grips with the fact that Muggle medicine and Magical potions could be mixed in very bad ways. They’d just opened a new department to study the implications a few months prior, and were getting some interesting results. Luckily, Draco’s case was pretty straightforward, so there was nothing more they could do except monitor him overnight.

So, here they were. Theo had gone to the Ministry to speak to some Aurors about the whole incident. Back at the bar, Sloane had mentioned a spate of similar druggings that had happened in the last few months, and had said that the police would no doubt be interested in speaking to Theo about what had happened. Theo assured Hermione that he wouldn’t be breaking the Statute of Secrecy any time soon, and the Aurors would send someone with him to ensure the safety of the Wizarding world.

For now, it was Hermione and Pansy holding vigil. Draco was sleeping, and the Healers had said he’d likely wake up in a few hours none the worse for wear. They did warn that there may be some memory loss, although with his skill at Occlumency they wouldn’t be able to confirm that until he woke up. Theo had gone to pick up a change of clothes for them all but had promised that he’d be back soon. Pansy had nodded off in her seat, which meant Hermione was the only one awake.

Having been in rooms like this before, Hermione knew that the light spells worked like Muggle dimmer switches; they would mainly be controlled by the Healers, however visitors could also make adjustments as necessary. Right now the lighting was low, a faint glow at the edges of the room the only thing keeping full darkness at bay.

She watched Draco sleep, feeling only slightly voyeuristic. He looked so peaceful. His breathing was regular, and his face completely relaxed. They’d changed him into some robes that Hermione swore were based on Muggle hospital gowns, although she’d noticed that patients didn’t have the little wrist bracelets like they did in hospitals.

Hermione had pulled her chair close to the bed and was holding his hand. Logically, she knew that he’d be fine, and if anything happened there were trained professionals who would deal with it, but she just couldn’t let go. She watched his chest rise and fall, the rhythm mesmerising in its regularity. Slowly, she let her head fall to the bed, resting it on her other folded arm.

_It’s fine, he’s right here, I’ll just close my eyes for a moment . . ._

~oOo~

Draco came out of his sleep slowly, like a swimmer rising to the surface after a deep dive. He felt slightly muzzy, and not fully awake. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was in a room, from the look of it one of the suites at St. Mungo’s. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the window showed darkness outside, the room softly lit with the usual spells.

He let his eyes drift slowly around the room. Pansy was asleep, curled up in a chair on the other side of the room. Another chair held Theo’s cloak, although the man himself appeared to be elsewhere.

Feeling a weight on his side, he looked to his left and felt his heart clench. Hermione was half-lying on his bed, fast asleep. She was tightly holding on to one of his hands, head resting on her arm and bent almost in half from her chair. She didn’t look like she was getting much rest; her brow was furrowed, and she seemed tense, almost as if she were bracing herself for an attack.

Carefully, not wanting to disturb her, Draco reached over with his other hand to brush some curls away from her face. She’d gotten rid of the bobble-heart headband at some point, and her hair was now in a loose tumble around her head.

As soon as he brushed her cheek, she woke up. He watched as she reflexively reached for her wand, eyes darting around the room before landing on him.

“Hi,” Draco whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He blinked sleepily at her, already feeling the weight of tiredness pulling him under once again. She smiled at him softly, putting her wand down on the bed before reaching over and smoothing the hair away from his face.

“It’s alright, Draco. You’re safe here, go back to sleep.” Her hand lingered, tracing his jaw. He leaned his cheek into her caress automatically, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I know I’m safe,” he murmured. “You’re here with me.” Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he let himself drift away.

As he did, he felt the faintest brush of her lips on his cheek, and he smiled as the scent of cinnamon chased him into a dreamless sleep.

~oOo~

When Draco next woke up, he was alone. Feeling rested and with only a slight headache, he looked around and took stock of his situation. There must have been some sort of spell on his bed, because as soon as he’d pushed himself upright he was surrounded by Healers.

They poked and prodded at him, and he dutifully answered their questions about the previous night. It seemed that his friends had filled them in about the majority of events, so he wasn’t questioned too rigorously. A few minutes later, they pronounced him fully recovered, and said he’d be able to go home that afternoon. They wanted a few more hours of observation just to make sure there were no other ill effects, so his mild objections were overruled.

They left en-masse, just as Hermione was coming back into the room. He smiled at her as she froze in the doorway.

“Morning, Granger.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, you’re awake!”

Before he could say anything, Hermione threw herself across the room and into his arms.

“Oof!” Taken completely by surprise, it took Draco a good few seconds to realise what was happening. The last thing he had expected was to have Hermione throw herself at him, especially after the night before. Nevertheless, wild Thestrals could not have stopped him from hugging her back. It was slightly awkward, with her half draped across his lap and her arms not able to fully go around him. As his arms closed around her he pulled her in close, burying his nose in her riotous curls and breathing deep. She was pressed against him, soft curves and lithe body a glorious mess in his arms.

“Well, hello to you too.” Draco said. Hermione pulled back, and he regretted having said anything. He held on to one of her hands, keeping her seated next to him on the bed. He found that he couldn’t stop looking at her, so he didn’t try. He watched as she dropped her eyes from his gaze, a blush staining her cheeks as she bit her lip.

“I, uh, I’m glad you’re okay,” she said. Draco noticed that she had what looked like a giftshop bag in her other hand, and she started fiddling with the ribbons on it.

“It’s definitely a new look for us, but I’m certainly not complaining,” he said with a grin. “If I had known that all it took for you to throw yourself into my arms was to get drugged in a Muggle bar, I would have considered doing something like that years ago.”

Unlike the night before, this time Hermione didn’t hold herself back from hitting him. “Don’t you dare say that, Draco Malfoy! You’ve just gone through something terrible, don’t you _dare_ make a joke about it!”

Draco was about to make another joke, something about laughing through the pain, until he saw a tear slip down her cheek.

“Hey, don’t cry, it’s alright.” He pulled her against his chest, holding her tight. “I’m fine, I promise. The Healers have given me a clean bill of health, and they said I could go home later today.” Draco pulled away, wiping her cheeks dry with his thumbs. “I’m truly okay.”

“I was worried about you, you git,” she sniffed, turning away to reach for the tissues at the side of his bed. “And then you go and make some blasé comment, like we didn’t drag you in here last night completely comatose, drugged with who knows what, and I-”

Suddenly aware of what she’d done, Hermione sat bolt upright and jumped off the bed.

“Oh, sweet Merlin, I’m so sorry for jumping on you like that. It – well, you see, I was just so happy to see you awake, properly awake, and you were smiling, and I just-”

“Hermione. Hermione. Hermione!”

“What?!”

He looked at her fondly. “You really don’t need to apologise. Did it look like I was complaining?”

“Well, no, but -”

“I promise you, if I ever have a problem with you throwing yourself at me, I will definitely let you know. And if I’m being honest, that will happen about three hours after never,” he said, smiling at her. She blushed, nodding as she sat back down on the bed.

“Although since you brought it up, I probably should apologise to you.” His mouth twisted, some of the good feelings from her hug disappearing as he realised what he had to do.

“To me?” She looked startled. “Whatever for?”

“For my actions last night,” he shrugged, trying desperately to look nonchalant. “Most of it is quite hazy, but I remember some of our conversation, and if I behaved inappropriately in any way, I-”

“Draco, stop. You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing.” Her eyes were blazing. “I’ve been on dates where the men weren’t as principled or well-mannered as you were, and they didn’t have the excuse of being drugged.” Hermione grabbed his hand and held it tight. “I was so worried about you, and I’m just so glad that you’re going to be okay.”

“I guess we’ll see in a few hours,” he said, laughing weakly. “As of now, I have the gift of time.”

“Oh!” she sat up, reaching behind her for the giftbag she’d left at the foot of the bed. “That reminds me, I picked this up for you downstairs.”

“A gift? For me?” Draco pushed aside the flounce of ribbon and reached inside, feeling something soft and furry brush against his fingertips.

“Well, it’s traditional when you visit someone in hospital, so I thought – look, I know it’s silly, but this was the only one they had left in the gift shop.” Hermione was starting to look worried as he pulled out a small bear. It was clutching a bright pink heart, and had been charmed to growl in an annoyingly cute way. “I know bears are creatures you’re probably better off not snuggling, however the gift shop attendant was quite enthusiastic, and I just didn’t have the heart to tell them no, so here we are.”

Draco couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, the small spike of pain in his head totally worth the look on Hermione’s face.

“I really can’t escape these little fuckers, can I,” he gasped in-between guffaws. “I think I’ll spare this one a beheading, though. Seems a bit rude, what with him being a gift and all.”

Hermione was thoroughly confused, glancing between the bear – now sitting on the bed – and Draco as if one of them might proffer an explanation.

“I feel like there’s a story here, but I’m at a bit of a loss as to what it is. Should I return it?” She reached for the bear, but Draco beat her to it.

“No! No, I’m sorry, it’s great,” he said, finally managing to get his laughter under control. Taking slow, deep breaths, he held the bear in his lap and looked at it fondly. “It seems that no matter how much I try to avoid them, they keep following me.” The bear growled at him, looking the complete opposite of menacing. Looking up, he caught Hermione looking at him. Holding her gaze, he placed the bear carefully on the bedside table.

“There is something else I think we need to talk about.” He watched Hermione take a deep breath, almost like she was bracing herself for something. “I know I’ve apologised to you about this already, so we won’t hash it over again. But I am truly, deeply sorry for any pain that I caused you when we were younger, Hermione.”

She was already nodding and waving away his words before his sentence had finished. “I forgave you years ago, you know that. And your actions, not to mention our friendship, have more than shown how different you are now.” She cocked her head. “What brought on this sudden re-confession?”

“Well,” Draco said, “last night was . . . a lot. And I don’t just mean the drugging.”

“Oh?” Hermione had that little line between her brows that meant she was trying to figure something out.

“Theo took me out last night, against my will, I might add, because he wanted me to get out of my head. Ironic, considering how the rest of the night went, wouldn’t you say?” He felt his lips quirk up in a grin, and was pleased to see an answering smile on her face.

“I was angry with him at first – I had this potion conundrum that was so close to being solved, and-”

“Oh, was it for the research you were doing into the Draught of the Living Dead and how it may be varied to help patients who have experienced long-term, magically-induced physical trauma? Fascinating work, Draco, truly, and I-”

“As much as I would love to talk to you about my work, Hermione, might I carry on?” Draco felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the look of embarrassed enthusiasm on her face. She tucked her hair behind her ears and gestured for him to go on.

“So, there I was, all ready to do some work, and Theo comes along to drag me to a bar. Or six.” He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t think he had a plan in mind. Part of it may have been wanting a distraction from being without Potter, although I didn’t realise it at the time. What I did notice was that he had noticed something about me.” And here it was. Draco took a deep breath – this next part was going to be tough. “He said many astute things about my character, the most notably being that I was hiding myself away from someone.” Draco allowed himself a brief look at Hermione instead of the bedclothes, trying to gauge her reaction. “He said that I was choosing friendship over courtship because I was, and I’m paraphrasing a bit here, ‘a prat of the highest order’, content to let a chance at happiness slip by because I didn’t want to risk anything.” He was unable to look away from her now, and he hoped she was picking up some of what he was trying, terribly, to say.

“It’s you, Hermione.” He heard her sharp inhale but didn’t stop speaking. “I’m not going to lie to you and say something cheesy like, ‘it’s always been you’, because we both know that’s not true. But it’s been you for longer than I care to admit.” He leaned forward, trying to put into words all the realisations that had blindsided him the night before. “These last few years as your friend have been amazing, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. But I’d definitely be lying if I said I wanted things to stay as they are.” Glancing up at her, he saw that her eyes had filled with tears, and he immediately felt terrible. “Gods, no, don’t cry, I take it back, friends is fine, we can just-” The rest of his speech was quite abruptly interrupted by Hermione once again flinging herself at him, this time also pressing her lips to his.

Shocked didn’t even begin to describe Draco’s reaction to the current state of events.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to realise that, yes, this was happening, yes, Hermione had just jumped him, and yes, she was at this very moment kissing him quite thoroughly.

The thrill of having her in his arms had short-circuited his brain, and before he could make it work again, she pulled back just far enough to rest her forehead against his.

“Sorry, I completely interrupted you, what were you saying?” she said breathlessly.

“Uh,” Draco usually prided himself on his verbal wit, however at this rather crucial juncture, it had clearly deserted him. “I was just saying that I like you, I have for ages, and Theo is the one who made me admit it, which probably means I owe him something now, dammit.” In all honesty, Draco couldn’t get too mad about it.

“If it makes you feel any better, Pansy and I had a very similar conversation ourselves.” Hermione pressed small kisses to his lips every few words. It was utterly distracting him, in the most delightful way possible, from what she was saying.

“Hmm? You did?” If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve sworn he was still drunk. There was a bubbly, fizzy feeling in his stomach as if he could take on the world and win. He also had the distinct impression that he was smiling like an idiot.

“Yes, it had something to do with my stubborn inability to accept alternate solutions.”

“You, stubborn?” he drawled. This time she did pull further away, slapping him lightly on the arm and laughing.

“Git,” she said fondly. “The point is, you’re not the only one feeling this way. I like you. A lot. And I probably should’ve just used my words, but you looked so deliciously rumpled, and you were saying such lovely things, I just couldn’t resist.” She bit her lip, looking unsure for the first time. “Is this okay? I mean, I know we have a lot to still discuss and everything, what with our jobs and the whole international travel thing, so-”

“This is more than fine, Hermione,” Draco said, pulling her so that she was almost sprawled across his lap. “This is, in fact, most excellent.” He saw her eyes light up, and then her lips were on his again, and everything was fire.

Or at least for about three seconds, before she wrenched herself away with a horrified look.

“Oh, gods, I’m doing it again! You’ve just gone through a trauma, and your head, and last night, and-”

“It’s alright, Hermione,” he said, the warm feeling growing at her concern for him. “I feel totally and completely fine.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she let him draw her back into the kiss, and this time she didn’t pull away.

It should have felt weird. The two of them had been enemies for so long, and had only really been friends for the past few years. Good friends, yes, but nothing more.

Except, this felt . . . right. Like they should have been doing it for years. There was no first-kiss awkwardness like there so often was with new partners. There was just heat, and light, and the exquisite taste of Hermione. She moaned softly into his mouth, and Draco just about lost his mind at that small sound. He moved one hand to her back and pulled her in closer, drawing her with him as he leant back on his pillows.

_If I died now, at least I’d go a happy man_ , he thought. And with that, he stopped thinking of anything except the witch in his arms.

~oOo~

Draco was one of the best kissers she’d ever had the pleasure of snogging.

Hermione was completely lost. If you’d asked her two days ago what she’d be doing after Valentine’s Day, it definitely would not have been ‘kissing one of my closest friends in a hospital bed the morning after he was drugged against his will’.

Since that was indeed what she was doing, she let herself enjoy every second. It was world-class, really, and it would be a travesty to miss any of it.

She sunk deeper into the kiss, letting her hands run over his chest and upper arms. Draco had pulled her down so that she was practically lying across him. His hands were in her hair, holding her head at just the right angle. Their tongues tangled together, and she felt herself getting lightheaded. Just as she was about to pull away, Draco pulled back and started pressing kisses to her jaw and down her neck. She jolted when he found a particular spot behind her ear, and feeling his lips curl into a grin against her skin she knew he’d felt it too.

“Remind me to go there again,” he murmured into her skin.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me, Malfoy,” she said.

He smiled up at her, lips swollen from her kisses and eyes black with desire. “As my lady wishes.”

What followed next was an indeterminate amount of time simply spent getting to know his lips. And jaw. And neck. And -

“Oi! Malfoy! Granger! We’ve been waiting out here for ages, are you two quite finished?” Theo’s yell was accompanied by his fist hammering into the door more times than polite society deemed necessary.

They jumped apart, and Hermione felt a giggle escape at the wrathful look on Draco’s face.

“Salazar, Godric, and Morgana’s favourite wand, I’m going to murder him one of these days, I swear to all that is holy.” He quickly leaned up and captured her lips in another brief kiss, pulling away only when the door started to open. Hermione rolled off of him and moved to sit back in her chair but found herself pulled back on the bed next to him instead. She huffed out a breath in surprise, and managed to push herself into a sitting position as Theo and Pansy made their way into the room. Mindful of Pansy’s inquisitive eye, Hermione sat up and straightened her clothes – a matter made somewhat more difficult by Draco’s arm around her.

Giving it up as a bad job, Hermione lifted her chin at the knowing looks Theo and Pansy were giving her.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing, Granger. Simply admiring the tableau.” Theo framed both of them with his hands before nodding and throwing himself in Hermione’s newly vacated chair. “Love the bear, Draco. Watch out for those aerial attacks, now. Oof!” He laughed good-naturedly as Draco’s pillow landed in his face. Pansy rolled her eyes and leant against the window ledge, managing to look chic and put together even after an eventful evening and a late-night hospital visit.

“Good to see you’ve both matured past your youthful shenanigans,” she drawled.

“Of course we have, Pansy dearest,” said Theo. “We’ve moved on to much higher pursuits now. We’re currently in the middle of a fascinating experiment involving Draco and teddy bears. And thanks to Granger, we have another data point!”

“I’ll give you a data point in a minute, you git,” Draco muttered.

“Now, now, Draco, language, there are ladies present,” Theo said, grinning at him.

Hermione rolled her eyes as the two men started sniping good-naturedly at each other. Pansy quirked a brow at her.

_Everything okay?_

Hermione shrugged back at her.

_I think so?_

Pansy’s lips twitched in amusement, and she tilted her head towards Theo as if to say, _Sorry about him_.

Hermione smiled, laughing in a, ‘ _what can you do?’_ sort of way.

“So!” Theo was saying as Hermione tuned back into the conversation. “Quite a successful night, I think. Unlike some of the other poor bastards on this floor,” he said. “Turns out Valentine’s Day is a hell of a day for Healers. I overheard some of them talking in the hallway outside, and let me tell you, it’s a gnarly scene out there. Two splinchings, three potion overdoses, and what I can only assume was a very risky Transfiguration spell gone horribly, horribly wrong.” Theo shuddered.

“Theo,” Draco said, fixing his friend with an exasperated look. “I was attacked by flying teddy bears, drugged, and was very nearly splinched myself. In what possible universe was this a successful night?”

Theo merely cleared his throat suggestively and tilted his head towards Hermione. Draco looked up at her, the mid-morning sunlight making a corona of light around her curls. He swallowed, feeling a blush race up his neck at the soft look she was giving him.

“Oh. Well, I guess you’re right, then.”

“Mmm, I am on occasion. What do you say, Granger, think last night was a success?”

“Success is a strong word, Nott,” she mused. “I’d say it was passable at best.”

“Passable at best? Draco, I think you’re losing your touch,” Pansy quipped. They all groaned, Theo looking thoroughly put out by the idea of his best friend commenting on one of his other best friend’s sexual talents.

“I’m passable?” Draco whispered to Hermione as Theo proceeded to complain to Pansy, at length, about proper ex-partner etiquette. 

“Well,” she murmured, “It’s possible I was underselling you a touch.” She grinned cheekily at him. “Just think of all the practicing we’ll have to do.” Draco grinned at her enthusiasm. His smile faltered slightly as a thought crossed his mind.

“Hermione, we still have a lot to discuss,” he said seriously. “This is amazing, but our lives are-”

“I know,” she said, pressing her fingers gently to his lips. “I know. We’ll get to that, I promise. But, just this once, let’s enjoy today for what it is.”

“And what is today, exactly?” he asked. He knew they had difficult discussions ahead of them, and important choices needed to be made. For now, however, he was quite happy to take her advice and simply enjoy the moment.

“Today,” she said, “is simply a day to be.”

And with that, she snuggled in close to his side, wrapping her arm around his chest and settling in to watch Pansy and Theo duke it out. Humming in contentment, Draco settled down deeper into the bed and rested his head on her curls.

“Pansy, if the words ‘long’ and ‘thrust’ come out of your mouth one more time, I swear on Godric’s grave-"

“Oh, please, Theodore, like I haven’t had to listen to Potter go on and on about you and your ‘nimble fingers’ every time we all catch up for drinks-”

Draco chuckled quietly, feeling Hermione shaking with suppressed laughter as well. Pressing a kiss to her head, a flash of pink caught his eye. Turning his head, he saw the bear still sitting on his bedside table, holding the heart and growling every now and then.

_Eh, they’re not so bad, I guess. At least this one can’t fly._

Draco tensed suddenly as the little beast growled again.

_Did it just move?_

“Hermione, love,” he said quietly, turning to look down at her, “Where did you get my gift again?”

“Hmm?” she queried. “Oh, the bear? From the gift shop downstairs. I didn’t even know there was a gift shop in St. Mungo’s, but George mentioned it last time we had drinks, so I thought I’d try and find it. Why?” She looked up at him. Seeing him start to frown, she pushed herself up slightly. “What’s wrong, Draco?”

“Weasley recommended the gift shop?”

“Yes, he did. Last Fri-” she broke off with a gasp, eyes fixed on something behind him. And just like that, Draco knew he’d been wrong.

“That little fucker is hovering in the air, isn’t he?” he asked Hermione, refusing to turn around.

“. . . I’m going to kill George, how could he sell these to a hospital!”

“I’d tell you to get in line, Granger, but I think the best course of action here would be to duck.” With that, he pulled her down with him, grabbing the pillow out from under his head and using it as a shield for them both. He heard muffled shouting coming from the other side of the room.

“Motherfu- Draco! They’ve found us again! Run, Pansy, run!” Theo yelled.

They heard more swearing followed by rapid footsteps, and then the sound of the door slamming. Huddled in the darkness with Hermione, Draco couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out, and he felt when Hermione lost the fight against her giggles. He knew they probably only had a few minutes before Theo and Pansy reported the rogue teddy bear to the Healers. Gingerly removing the pillow, he found that the bear had followed Theo and Pansy out of the room. Wincing at the havoc it was no doubt causing, Draco let his eyes fall to Hermione. She was biting her lip in a vain attempt to stop laughing, her body shaking. As his gaze lingered, her giggles slowly subsided. He felt heat run through him, and saw the answering look in her eyes.

“Seems we have a few minutes alone, Miss Granger,” he murmured, leaning into her.

“Indeed we do, Mister Malfoy,” she said demurely, the tilt of her chin undercutting the innocence of her words. “What say you to some practice?” She raised her eyebrows at him.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he smirked. Closing the small distance between them, he captured her lips with his own. All other sights and sounds faded, and Draco let himself fully relax into their kiss. What would come, would come, and he and Hermione would face it.

Together.

~oOo~

**Author's Note:**

> For all of my Shakespeare-inclined friends, I have been wanting to use that line in a fic for YEARS. Years, I tell you! So glad that I was finally able to write a fic that was worthy of it.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


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